Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
The lights dimmed, and a hush rippled through the room before a spotlight snapped on at center stage.
An enormous man with broad shoulders stepped in front of a round table built for play, outfitted with tie-down rings, handles, and wheels.
The King, wrapped in a long, red velvet robe trimmed in white fur, beamed at the crowd with a bright white smile.
His long, dark brown hair hung loosely over bronzed skin slicked with oil.
A crooked crown sat on his head while he casually brandished a gold scepter.
He was the kind of man who thought far too highly of himself.
He raised the scepter to the beat of the music, and the crowd answered immediately with cheers, whistles, and laughter from every level of the theater.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he boomed theatrically, “welcome to the Royal Round Table.”
Applause erupted, punctuated by a scream.
“Tonight,” he continued, pacing the stage and drawing in the entire crowd, “surrender matters. Devotion matters. And obedience—” he paused, smirking, “—earns more than a mere kiss.”
The crowd clapped in approval.
“This New Year’s Eve, you don’t just watch the production. You become part of it. Welcome to The Black Ledger.”
He finished with a dramatic flourish of the scepter and turned, backing into a massive throne upholstered in dark red leather. When he dropped into it, his robe fell open.
No clothing.
He was fully on display.
He leaned back and spread his legs wide, lazily stroking his cock as three silver frenum barbells glinted in the light.
Margaretta squirmed beside me—half in shock, half in awe.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
Two knights marched onto the stage in perfect time with the music.
They both wore short royal blue capes trimmed in gold, draped over bare torsos and flaring with each step.
Low-slung joggers clung to their hips, accentuating their deep V-cuts.
One had wavy chestnut hair and dark eyes; the other was blonde with bright blue eyes.
Their bodies were carved from stone, the kind of perfection reserved for Greek gods and built for worship.
When they reached the round table, they slid open the hidden drawers beneath it and laid out their tools with care: crops, gags, handcuffs, dildos, lengths of chain, small velvet bags, and finally a pair of daggers so sharp they gleamed under the lights.
My stomach tightened. Those were serious toys for whoever earned a place in tonight’s royal court.
The blonde knight’s gaze lifted—and locked straight onto Sofia.
At the same time, the dark-haired knight turned toward the audience, scanning once before grabbing a man from the front row and hauling him to his feet. The man laughed, startled and eager, as the knight guided him backstage.
The blonde knight didn’t hesitate.
He climbed into the audience, extended a hand, and Sofia took it with a grin that said she understood exactly what she was doing.
“You get it, girl,” Margaretta squealed in delight.
When Sofia reached the stage, she bowed deeply before the King, sinking low and holding the pose.
“Damn, she knows exactly how to own a room,” I muttered.
Margaretta giggled.
The King barely acknowledged her, one brow lifting in mild interest.
The blonde knight circled Sofia, wagging a finger at her slowly, deliberately, as if she’d been naughty.
Sofia stayed low, head down.
The King’s mouth curved in something close to a smirk.
With casual efficiency, the knight reached around her throat and unfastened the clasp of her shimmering cape. The fabric slid free and hit the floor as he stepped in front of her. He hooked a finger beneath Sofia’s chin and guided her to stand.
Then he seized her by the waist, turned, and deposited her on the table in one smooth move.
The blonde knight stepped between her legs, her calves hanging over the edge of the table.
His hands started at her knees and slid upward—slow, unhurried—over her thighs, along her hips, and up her waist, gathering the pink lace teddy as they went.
He dragged it up her body and over her head in one fluid pull, tossing it aside without a glance. The tiara stayed where she’d pinned it.
Sofia’s breath hitched.
He rubbed his palms over her bare breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples as his mouth curved and he licked his lips. Her back arched in response, chest lifting into his hands.
From a small black velvet bag at his hip, he produced a pair of diamond-embellished nipple clips, with weighted balls suspended beneath them. He smirked, quickly fitted each one into place, then leaned in and clamped them tight in a single, decisive motion.
“Ow,” Sofia gasped, her face pinching for a heartbeat.
He tilted his head, frowning, and tsked.
Sofia drew a deep breath, then exhaled, dropping her chin. A moment later, her hands slid from her waist to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them as if to show the crowd she could take it. With a smile, the tension eased from her shoulders.
“That’s such a good little subject. The King doesn’t like girls who are meek,” the knight praised in an approving voice.
Sofia bit her lip. “No worries, I’m here to please.”
Applause rippled through the audience.
“Scoot,” he snapped, gesturing toward the center of the table.
Sofia moved, shifting her bottom to the center with a pleased little roll of her hips, knees together, leaning back on her palms, loving every eye on her.
Moments later, the dark-haired knight returned from backstage and took his place beside his partner. They stood at attention, facing the throne.
The King snapped his fingers.
Both knights moved at once, flanking Sofia, yanking her knees apart and pinning them wide against the table.
Margaretta leaned closer to me. “Good thing she’s flexible.”
The knights reached for the daggers.
The blonde knight dragged the flat of his blade from Sofia’s knee toward her center, skimming her skin until the edge pressed against the lace at her hip.
At the same time, the other knight traced a line with the blunt edge of his blade from her shoulder, around her breast, and down to her opposite hip.
Together, they angled their blades inward and sliced.
The sides of her lacy thong split apart. The blond knight yanked it free, lifted it to his nose, and inhaled in an exaggerated breath, his eyebrows bouncing as the crowd lost its mind. Then he flung it into the audience.
The King studied Sofia.
Then nodded his approval to the knights.
Together, they slowly spun the table, turning Sofia so every angle of her was visible to the rest of the theater. She arched her back, loving it, and it was clear from her glistening folds and flushed skin that she was more than ready for whatever came next.
Champagne appeared in my hand again without me asking for it.
I took a sip and realized how much I’d already had tonight. Between the shots and the wine earlier and the champagne now, the alcohol was catching up with me. But my attention was riveted to Sophia’s performance.
The blonde knight moved to Sofia’s shoulders and eased her down. He lifted her arms one at a time, setting her hands on either side of her head. Then he cuffed each wrist to the chains bolted beneath the table.
The dark-haired knight grasped Sofia around the waist and pulled her forward as he dropped to his knees between her legs.
Pressing her bent knees to either side with his forearms, he dragged the flat of his tongue from her asshole to her clit. She arched into his mouth and was rewarded as he lavished attention on her core, licking, biting, and sucking.
Sofia’s head tipped back, her mouth opening on a groan.
And that was when the night truly began.
The blonde knight picked up his dagger and slapped the flat of it into his palm, grinning. He strolled over to his partner, caught him by the back of the head, and dragged him in close, licking Sofia’s juices from his mouth before crashing their mouths together in a rough, possessive kiss.
Before the dark-haired knight could return his attention to Sofia, the blonde turned back to her and drew the blunt edge of his blade through her slit, tracing a slow path straight up her center—over her stomach, between her breasts, and up to her throat.
Sofia gasped. The dark knight drove two fingers into her, pumping and licking in time to the rhythm of the music.
The blonde trailed his blade along her jaw, then pricked her.
She jumped, breath hitching, eyes flying wide as a thin line of blood welled and slid down her neck.
The crowd went silent.
The blonde knight lifted the blade, brought it to his mouth, and licked the blood from the tip.
Something twisted low in my stomach.
Then he stabbed the point of the blade into the table beside Sofia’s head.
The crack of wood echoed through the quiet room.
The audience gasped as one, and I sucked in a sharp breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
The blonde knight straightened, shrugged his cape from his shoulders, and let it fall around his feet. He shoved his pants down and off next, baring himself, veins standing out along the length of his hard cock.
Margaretta turned to me, eyes wide and uncertain.
“This is all part of it,” I assured her. “She can stop it with one word. They won’t cross that line.”
Margaretta swallowed and turned back, blushing hard, unable to look away. I knew the rules applied to me too—I could walk away from this whenever I chose. But for now, I was intrigued.
The blonde knight stroked his cock as he watched the knight between her thighs continue to pleasure Sofia.